A Short Lived Tyranny
by Klaelman
Summary: Double standards can be found ANYWHERE. Especially when you insert them in yourself.


**Beauty is a short-lived tyranny. ~Socrates**

**This idea came to me suddenly, and after a short discussion, this one shot was born. Enjoy.**

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"Did you hear about Samantha?"

"The Sixth Year Ravenclaw? Isn't she dating Tobias Redclaft?"

"Oh, of _course_, she is—and you know how she is with her potions!"

A blond girl, Fifth Year at most and wearing the distinctive red tie of Gryffindor, snickered as though she knew something her dark-skinned friend didn't. They were carrying matching satchels, magicked to hold many times their apparent capacity and charmed to be light as a feather. Their evening stroll from the library to the Gryffindor common room was leisurely, and unimpeded by their fellow students, allowing them to gossip to their hearts' content.

Both of the girls were unremarkable, their propensity for spreading rumors about their peers non-withstanding. Oh, they were very beautiful, but all of the girls at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry were beautiful—and occasionally beguiling. It wasn't as though they didn't have access to the very best in potions, transfiguration, and charms—some of which were practically standard fair for girls once they reached "that" age. Some had even been passed down from the older girls, having remained house secrets for centuries. The result was that any perceived physical imperfections could be fixed quickly, without fuss, though some of the more rare options came with specified price tags. Many a student had made a significant fortune, peddling their skills to the vain and ignorant.

No one really complained, aside from the occasional muggle-born, who, for some reason, objected to _this_ instance of making life easier and more pleasant, over many others. Duels to the Death, Vows of Secrecy, and any number of rituals—almost entirely composed of sacrificial requirements, many of which involved wholesale slaughter of innocents—were as common-place as the very charms on the girls' tote bags. But as the world was rife with criminals, malcontents, and—worse yet—_Muggles_, few saw these as the evils they were.

The dark skinned girl tossed her hair over her shoulder, glistening more than the dim torches should allow it to. "He's top in his year in Charms, isn't he? I heard he's the front-runner for the GNOME scholarship! He's quite a catch!" Her eyes glittered in mirth, and possibly as an aftereffect of any number of seduction enchantments.

The blond's silvery laugh echoed up and down the vacant corridors, seeking without success to entrap the senses of anyone foolish enough to not take precautions. "Oh, yes, he's quite driven. Of course, I doubt that he'll have any free time to focus on his studies, if you know what I mean." Her voice sounded giddy, and possibly entrancing, were she to direct it on an unfortunate youth.

A dark eyebrow tilted slightly up in interest. "Oh? So it wasn't entirely her own doing, then? Was it something more...subtle?" Her eyebrows flared upwards for an instant, communicating something not to be mentioned where anyone—a passing student, an unseen house elf, an attentive portrait—could overhear them.

The blond threw her head back in laughter, her hair cascading magically over her shoulders in a most enticing way. "Parvati, what do you think? Like _Samantha _could snare a boy like that with her own Charms! No, let me tell you—she is a _very_ diligent potions student." She tilted her head forward ever-so-slightly, conveying her opinion without words.

Parvati sniffed in contempt, a slight furrow showing her distaste for the girl. "She's so _obvious_ about it, Lav. No subtlety about it, just a drip-drip, and all of a sudden, he can't take his eyes off of her! No history of any sort of friendship, or even passing acquaintance. How blatant can you get?"

Lavender snickered as the girls turned towards the stairway that would take them to the Fat Lady's portrait, and Gryffindor Tower. "Well, those Ravenclaws—all brains and no common sense. I mean, _obviously_, if you don't make it look gradual, then everyone will know what you did. But you know about Angelina and Fred, right?"

Parvati's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Those two?! They've been friends since first year—and dating since third! Who told you _that_ one?"

Lavender smirked knowingly. "Well, let's just say _someone _overheard one of her Quidditch teammates asking for some...friendly hints, as it were, for a 'potions exam.'"

Parvati laughed out loud, her own voice echoing as enticingly as Lavender's had moments before. "Oh, that _is_ good! I would never have guessed. Well, everyone in Gryffindor knows Angelina's the one in our house for _help_ if you need it. Now we know why!" Their laughter echoed like siren song, searching for an innocent to snare in its seductive trap.

They encountered no one until they reached the stairway leading to the Fat Lady's portrait—which was wide open, with the stern-faced Gryffindor Head of House, Professor McGonagall, looking especially severe and unforgiving tonight, standing at the entrance. Her piercing gaze fell on the two girls, whose smiles immediately left their faces and made them feel as though they had committed some significant violation, or missed an important assignment.

She didn't move as they approached, and only as they reached the landing before the Gryffindor Tower portal did they notice the other figure standing motionless by the doorway. He wore black robes, marked only with an insignia over the heart bearing the Ministry Coat of Arms and the special markings distinct of the DMLE. Someone in their house, apparently, had drawn the attention of the Ministry's police force.

The two girls looked inquisitively at Professor McGonagall, who favored them with a frown tempered with distaste. "Ladies, please, hold a moment. One of your..._housemates_, as it were, is under arrest and to be taken to the Ministry for questioning." She practically spat the words at the girls, so fervent was her anger at the idea that one of her own students could be capable of such an act of wrongdoing.

The two students' eyes flicked in each others' direction for the briefest of moments, enough time to acknowledge the alarm within the other's mind. Had one of the girls' been too indiscreet with their use of spellcraft? Had someone been careless enough to leave something in the open, to let something slip to an unwary ear?

Professor McGonagall seemed unaware of the direction of the thoughts of her students as she looked back towards the common room. "Young Adam Phillips, a fourth year, was found to be mixing several illicit potions, and we have reason to believe that he had even used them to _assault_ a fellow student." Her tone evidenced her disbelief, her rigid countenance indicative of more anger than either of the young girls had ever seen her display.

"You girls have no need to worry, however," The DMLE guard smiled reassuringly in their direction. He hesitated slightly as he felt the beauties' attention shift holey onto him, causing him to straighten his appearance and puff his chest out. "We're taking the lad into custody, he won't bother you again, you can rest assured of that."

Lavender and Parvati smiled in relief, partly at not being discovered for themselves. "Oh, yes, thank you!" Lavender said.

The DMLE guard grinned as his fellow agents escorted a downcast fourth year out the entryway. "It's my job, ladies. Don't worry about it at all. Imagine, though—the gall of the boy, using magic to entice innocents to his bed! Of course, he will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law, as he should be."

"Oh—of course, I would hope so!" And with two last, magical smiles, the Gryffindors stepped into their common room, the guard's appreciative gaze following them almost against his will.

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**No object is so beautiful that, under certain conditions, it will not look ugly. ~Oscar Wilde**


End file.
